


Seafoam Castles

by milkdromedas (sebasent)



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Gen, Human Allura & Coran, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Platonic Hand-Holding, Slowburn Level Extreme, Strong Language, because tumblr, mermaid au, merman Keith, near-drowning, surfer lance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-07
Updated: 2016-09-17
Packaged: 2018-07-21 16:20:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,277
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7394734
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebasent/pseuds/milkdromedas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Lance has what one may be able to call a near-death, close-encounter experience with a mer...person.</p><p>No, really.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One: Brace For It

**Author's Note:**

> I dug myself into Voltron hell and this is the result. Also for [friendlyneighborhoodpagan](http://friendlyneighborhoodpagan.tumblr.com/) on tumblr, because this is the result of their prompt + my rage that this did not yet exist.  
> Enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [_Alternate World_ , Son Lux:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5wnIs71n_kE)   
>  _We'll shed our skin, we'll walk the other side. Oh-oh we'll brace for it, and conquer everything._

He can’t really say _how_ he got into this situation, mostly because he doesn’t remember. He only knows that one moment he was waving at Allura as she left, definitely _not_ staring at her backside because that’s plain rude, and the next he looked to the other side and back and he was over one hundred metres away from the shore, drifting. This is his position at the moment- sitting on his board, the setting sun behind him, and his eyes closed, trying not to rage out in frustration.

Ah, shit.

He looks down to start swimming back, but then he sees _something_ , and he definitely Does Not yell. Instead, he quickly pulls his arms and legs up onto his board in case it is a _shark_ and is here to _eat_ him, because he is a quick-witted thinker, yes he is. And he is- well, scared. Just a little bit.

Hear him out, okay? He’s fucking _entitled_ to his fear. It's getting late, he's lost, he's alone, and he can just see the shadow of whatever it may be underneath him. Of course he's fucking scared.

He curls into himself and tries not to be obvious about it, anyways. It's just chilly, he tells himself.

He looks down again, because he's morbid like that, and then- shit. He yelps and scoots back but there is nothing- his board is narrow and so he falls into the waters and the jaws of whatever is waiting to eat him. He has a moment where he forgets everything but the cold, cold water that surrounds him, and the gravity that tries to fill his mouth with water, and his arms flail with exertion and panic; he can’t call for help, and he can’t fucking do anything, because the water is dragging its fingers along his ankles and calves and he’s about to die, he’s about to die and his abuela is going to kill him.

He stops flailing, then, and resigns himself to have his last moments in the solitude of the ocean, but then he's… floating. And his first though is, of course, he can _swim_. But no. Swimming isn’t being dragged to the (embarrassingly close) surface by a pair of arms, strong and calm and colder than the water; he takes a few deep breaths and ravels in the feeling of oxygen in his lungs for a second before he finally opens his eyes and tries to assess his situation.

He lets his vision adjust to the darkening sky and sees- yep, that same pair of creepy-ass eyes from before  that stare at him like he were... chum? No. More like a weird piece of tin floating around? Which is, wow, _rude_.  He is at _least_ plastic. Not _tin_.

 _Not the best moment_ , he tells himself.

Right. Focus. He's still about to die. He can't be thinking these kinds of things in his final moments because how ridiculous would that be? Plus, he would be letting Pidge have the last word on how his vanity will lead to his ultimate death, and he can _not_ allow that.

He's still paralysed in terror from the idea of what it may _be_ ; He watches it advance, navy eyes glowing with the ocean around them. He's just thinking, _shit, shit, I'm gonna die, I'm gonna fucking die_ , and nothing else- which really does not help his current state of mind, but well-, and when the thing comes to a stop right beneath Lance's chin, he honest-to-god whimpers.

Not his proudest moment, he admits.

The creature bobs up and down and doesn't move, and Lance is going blue because he's holding his breath. He stares into its eyes for a while, marvelling at the queer beauty of the moonlight reflecting off its irises, but then he yelps when he feels something scale-y and slime-y brush his feet and the eyes move closer.

 _Shit it’s coming up, it's going to eat me_ , _shit_ , fucking _shit._

It has long hair and pale skin that shimmers as he moves, and it looks like-

Hold up.

What?

A boy. It looks like a boy. With gills on the side of its (his?) neck, but a _boy_.

Lance screams.

The thing, consequently, screams as well.

It is a horrible, screeching sound that sounds like nails on a chalkboard, and Lance brings his hands up to his ears to shield from it because _wow_ , his ears are gonna bleed otherwise.

It swims backwards and slams into his board, and then it yelps again, making Lance want to push away and as far as he can but he’s actually really, really scared, and so he just digs through his shock and says, “What the _fuck?”_

The thing turns its head at the sound of his voice. “Huh?”

Lance blanches. He wants to run away but he can’t because _it_ is right beside his board and he doesn’t know where he is, and the inky blackness of the ocean around him is, quite honestly, _terrifying_.

“What the- _shit_ are you?”

 _Shit_. That is all he can think of, apparently. If he’s honest, it’s probably his favourite word at the moment.

_Focus!_

It clicks. Lance feels the Something against his feet again and he wants to cry, just a little.

“Do you- do you talk?”

The thing eyes him curiously, and clicks again.

Lance is two seconds away from losing his shit. _And_ his lunch.

“Could you, uh, could you move? Please?”

The thing clicks again. It doesn’t move, though, and Lance has absolutely no idea of what to _do_.

He reaches out an arm and carefully pushes the thing to the side, trying not to think too much about the feeling of soft skin and bumpy scars. It thankfully, _thankfully_ goes willingly- and whatever else there may be brushes against his feet _again_.

Lance is really getting tired of this shit.

He looks down and sees… a tail. And he follows it up, up, up, until he meets the Thing’s eyes and splashes away with yet another _manly_ yelp, making the Thing give him a look that clearly says, “Getting tired of your bullshit, Human.”

But. A mermaid.

He is being hunted (?) by a mermaid.

What even is his life?

Lance is breathing heavy, now, and he has no idea of what is going to happen next, but he ever so slowly makes his way forward and then latches onto his board as quickly as he can, all this while the _mermaid (mer_ man _?)_ stares at him curiously, its eyes the only thing that are visible now- between his black, black hair and the rest of the ocean around them, now calm and dark, it’s eerie. Like, _really_ eerie.

Lance looks away, even if he doesn’t want to. He gets on his board and tries to look around, find his way, and he sees the glow of a city far away.

He feels the knot in his chest loosen a little. He takes a deep breath and thinks of Hunk and Pidge and Shiro, who are probably waiting for him with towels and warm soup. He breathes out in a sigh, something like calm beginning to make its trek from the pit of his stomach and into his fingers and toes.

He looks back towards the mer _person_ , ready to take farewell, but he doesn’t see anything there- not a ripple, not a whisper, not a click. Just- darkness.

Lance doesn’t give it much thought. It’s quite relieving, really.

He tries not to, on his way back- instead he tries to distract himself, wondering if anyone saw him flailing and refused to help, thinking of how weird it is that he has no idea of how he wandered out so far.

He frowns. He doesn’t know how long it was, but given by the brightness of stars overhead, he guesses that it was probably longer than he’d like.

When he gets to shore, he looks back into the endless waters and thinks of his wrinkly fingers and cold toes, sees a shimmering red over the moonlight that reflects to his left, and then-

“Lance!”

He turns, and all he just lived becomes imaginary when he looks at Pidge and Shiro coming over to him, eyes crinkled and worried, hands interwoven.

“Where were you, dude?”

He looks at Pidge. “What’dya mean? I out was surfing. I told you.”

“Yeah, but at ten p.m.?” Pidge makes a face. “You’re crazy, man.”

Shiro touches Lance’s arm with his cold, metal hand, and a look of concern on his face. “Come on, Lance,” he says. “It’s freezing out here. I think Hunk is making some tea for you.”

He nods. They make to leave and after a second he joins them, too. He listens to Pidge chatter about the new recipe Hunk cooked up with some local fish, and about their plans for a new piece of technology, and he feels his toes start to warm a little bit.

Lance spares one more glance at the ocean, and it is not the breeze makes him shiver.

 


	2. Chapter Two: Watermelon Smiles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [_Behind The Sea_ , Panic! At The Disco:](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wtz-vgdF-8U)   
>  _Don't you know, don't you know, that those watermelon smiles just can't ripen underwater?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >i honestly didnt think this would get the reception it did?? i feel so blessed aah ;;  
>   
> >Anyways, please enjoy & excuse my errors! :^)

 

He knew he was not supposed to, but he did it anyways.

He knew it was going to lead him into trouble.

He just never thought it would be quite like _this._

He huffs and curses in thought, swims away as fast as he is physically able to, doesn’t look back. (Doesn’t _dare_ look back, afraid of scathing looks and waving tails, of words that cut as deep as glass at times). He’s always been _too much_ for his people. This he has known and wore with dignity for as long as he has lived; he is no stranger to the queer looks and signs his-the- people make in his wake. But that they would officially cast him out and leave him to his own devices in the lonely, vast ocean, honestly didn’t cross his mind _once_.

He huffs again. How _dare_ they? He’s the best at hunting! He’s lithe and fast and one of their best fighters, they can’t just _cast him out_ because he thinks different from them! Because he learnt to understand parts of the oh so stigmatised _weird_ language! They can’t. They can’t.

_But they did._

He growls in frustration, startling a school of fish nearby, and he takes a second to feel bad before the outrage from before hits him at full force again.

He doesn’t know what else to do.

 

* * *

 

Let’s make one thing as clear as possible: Lance has been many things in his life, but a coward he is not.  

That he has avoided any interaction with the sea- even if he is currently living with it as his backyard- is just a simple causality, a hundred percent plausible. His life isn’t all about surfing, after all, and neither is it about swimming or terrifying ocean creatures he is still not sure were even real. He has a job as a teacher’s assistant in the local elementary school. He has a social life. He has a family.

Never mind that summer vacation began three days ago, all of his friends have _something_ to do with the sea, and his family lives in a different country.   

He’s had a lot on his mind lately, that’s all. He likes to live in a bubble of ignorance when he has the chance to _not_ be the voice of reason in a room, thank you very much. ( _Yes_ , it happens, and _yes_ , it is as unbelievable as it sounds, every single time).

But oh of _course_ , life just loves to kick the shit out of his ambitions and spit on his face like if he were nothing. The one thing he wished for, the one thing that was taken from him, and he curses it all to hell.

“We should go swimming,” were the words that destroyed his happy little bubble of ignorance. “It would be a good idea to get some practise in,” were the nails that sealed his coffin shut.

 _Fucking Pidge,_ he thinks. _Fucking Shiro. Fucking everyone._

“Lance? You okay buddy?”

Lance looks up from his definitely-not-sulking sulking position to look at Hunk with a practised quizzical look. “Of course I'm okay,” he answers, a whine on the edges of his voice. “I’m always okay. Why wouldn’t I be okay?”

Hunk raises his hands in sign of surrender, a small smile playing on his lips. “Just askin’, man. You haven’t touched the water since we got here.”

Lance sighs through his nose and twists his face into something resembling a smirk. “Why, Hunk, is this what I think it is?”

Hunk tilts his head, a small crease on his forehead, and says, “Uh, and what is that?”

“Are you _asking_ me to get in the water with you, Hunk? Oh Hunk, I am truly flattered, but as you know, I only see you as a friend, my dear Hunk! Oh, I am so sorry for breaking your little heart…”

Hunk turns and walks away, throwing an unimpressed glance over his shoulder.

 _Good_ , Lance thinks. He’s fine like this: alone, on what he has designated as His Rock, and with his phone and sunscreen at the ready. He lies down and relaxes into his towel, yearning for the blessed minutes he’s going to get in napping, and is just about to drift off…

_Splash!_

He frowns. He was pretty sure Shiro and the others were on the other side of the beach.

He shrugs and doesn’t even bother to open his eyes.

_Splash!_

He groans and shakes his head. _Fuck you too,_ he mentally tells whoever-

_Splash!_

He splutters and moves three seconds too late, and is soaked to the bone in less than two. “What the hell?!” he yells, and he feels something brush his feet.

Ah. Shit.

“Lance? Lance, you okay?” Shiro asks from far away, and Lance can imagine the look of fatherly concern he wears: drawn eyebrows, downturned mouth, slightly tilted head.

“’M fine,” he yells back, surprised when his voice doesn’t actually convey all the panic he’s feeling at the moment. “Just fine.”

He raises one shaky arm in a thumbs up, just in case, but his eyes stay firmly planted on the creature before him: long hair, skin that shimmers with the slightest shift, pretty purple eyes, and _gills._

He blinks slowly. Once, twice, thrice, and the merperson from three nights ago stares back at him blankly.

“So you’re real,” he says smartly. The merperson tilts its head. “I’m not crazy.”

“ _Klrreeh_?” it parrots, or at least tries to. It looks confused and a little outraged, and Lance can’t honestly believe this is happening. He doesn’t know how to deal with this, so he does what he does best in stressful situations: he tries to puff his chest out as best as he can and takes on his Teacher Voice, the one that means serious business is about to go _down_.

 “No,” Lance says. “Crazy. Craaaaaazy. Can you... say that?”

“ _Kl-rrrreeigh!_ ” it says again, and its shrill is so loud Lance covers his ears.

“Ah, no, this isn’t working,” he mutters, once his ears stop ringing. He looks back at his friends just to confirm they aren’t about to come and catch him trying to give English lessons to a _merperson,_ and then he continues with his terrible idea. “How about we try with something else, yeah? Let's try something else: say _hello_.”

“ _Jhjeehooh_?”

Lance flinches because that voice is just so _acute,_ but it is still a vast improvement from the first word. “Yes, good! Good. Now try to say _Lance!_ ”

“ _Ighnhss?_ ”

It looks so proud, Lance doesn’t have the heart to correct it.

He’s honestly having so much fun with this. When he moved here, he never thought he’d ever be in this position.

Giving impromptu classes to a merperson.

A merperson who probably tried to kill him.

He halts in the middle of saying _awesome!,_ his heart on his throat and a weird, dark, and murky feeling in the pit of his stomach.

“Shit,” he says to no-one in particular. “I’m talking to a mermaid.”

It brightens a little, and then his look turns sour. “No… _Marmag._ Galra.”

Lance looks down at it. “Huh? What did you say? Gal-ra?”

“ _Galra!_ No _mermag._ Galra!”

Lance raises his eyebrows. “Galra? That’s the name of- your species, right?”

It nods, clearly exited. “Woah,” Lance says. “So, Galra, do you have a name?”

“Heh?”

“A name!” Lance points at himself, a proud smile on his face. “I’m Lance.”

“ _Ighnhss_!”

“Lance! And you… are?” he tries to convey his question as best as possible, and after a few seconds of confused tension, it points at itself.

“ _Kleehtch_!”

Lance makes a face. “Keith? Sounds human to me.”

The now-named Keith frowns. “Galra,” it points at itself. “ _Tulpuhrr,_ ” it points at Lance.

“Alright… I think we’re getting somewhere now,” he says, because he doesn’t think he’s ready to learn mermaid (Galran?) yet. So he decides to take a page from Pidge’s book and ask, “what are your- ah, pronouns?”

It gives him confusion in the form of a raised eyebrow and narrowed eyes.

“You know,” Lance gestures to himself. “I’m ‘he’. You are…”

It points towards itself with the most condensing look lance has ever received from a fish. “No. _Kleehtch_ ,” it says, and then points at Lance’s chest: “ _Ighnhss._ ”

Lance sighs. “I’m _Lance_. I’m a _he_. You…”

Keith stares at him for a long, long moment, and then makes a few angry-sounding whistling and clicking sounds, and disappears.

Lance looks down. He can’t see anything other than his own feet and the sand.

“Weird,” he mutters. He waits for a few minutes, but Keith appears to not be coming back for a while.

He’s suddenly all too aware of everything: his wrinkly fingers, the ringing phone on the rock, and the disturbing lack of the sounds of other people around.

He dries his hands and checks his messages, tries to look for Hunk and finds him lounging on the sand under a palm tree. He dunks his head in water for a second to clear it, and makes the mistake to look over at Shiro and Allura.

He smirks mischievously.

He gets out of the water and gathers his things quickly, doing what he does best and trying not to think too much about Keith and his weird vocal chords and Lance’s even weirder reaction to the whole situation.

“HEY, Shiro, how _dare_ you deflower our sweet innocent friend?!”

Lance finds joy and solace in running away from his angry friends, and wishes life could stop being so _weird_ for one goddammed second.

He wishes to Sirius when it appears, as he lets himself be tackled to the ground by an angry Pidge, later, and tries to stop trying to understand his conversation with Keith.

(He talked to a _merperson._ Holy fucking _shit_ ).

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> >look at them, having a bonding moment :'D  
> >if it seems things are too fast please dont panic for i have everything coldly calculated ;))
> 
> FUN FACT CORNER oKay but the whole keith talking thing actually has its own logic?? cause merpeople (or Galra) have to speak underwater and communicate in a logical way so they use shrill and mostly close-mouthed 'words' that we can't normally hear, and if we do (on air, since sound travels different through different densities) they sound like gibberish because we cant hear the half of it/it hurts our ears when we do!! :O  
> >anyways. long story short, if you want to come freak out about underwater linguistics with me and talk about the language i made up for this, [then tumblr is the place!](http://coolerthan0k.tumblr.com)  
> thank you!


	3. Chapter Three: All The Things You've Lost

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [_10,000 Weight In Gold_ , The Head And The Heart;](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iH56jnkmO9M)   
>  _And the nighttime was the worst; It shows you all the things you've lost._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> remember how i said i hoped there wouldnt be a big gap between chapters??????? yea me neither lol (tho i do have an excuse and that is that my computer gave its last breath and it was a while before i could have it back :') )
> 
> Dairo is the name i have given to the Good Galra person !! i know it's been a bit slow but!! we're almost to the plot!! :O (No Lance today though :'( )
> 
> ALSO!! [@toastchild](http://toastchild.tumblr.com) ON TUMBLR MADE SOME **A M A Z I N G** ART FOR THIS FIC!! [GO CHECK IT OUT! <3 ](http://kugelblitzes.tumblr.com/post/147398294729/toastchild-surferlance-and-mermaidkeith-is-my)  
>  as always, please enjoy! <3

Keith swims around aimlessly, trying to keep his head off the fact that he has been homeless for over a week, marginalised and probably despised for much longer. He looks to the right, where he knows his people are, and he huffs petulantly.  _ Assholes,  _ he thinks.

He sighs and watches oxygen bubbles float and  _ pop _ , float and  _ pop _ . He reaches out blindly and is met with the edge of his spear, the only thing he was interested in bringing with him into exile.  _ “At least it’s quieter,”  _ he muses, and heaves another sigh, which attracts a small, languid fish his way.

“Why are you alone, buddy?” He asks the fish, only feeling a little bit ridiculous. “Were you betrayed, too?”

The fish stares at him with shifting eyes, lazy bubbles tangling in Keith’s hair. “Guess so,” he says, and decides to stop before someone actually  _ hears _ him or something.  The fish seems to deem the conversation over as well, because it carries on its way without so much as a whispered goodbye and leaves Keith all alone.  Again.

He looks around. Now that he doesn’t have to be constantly practicing or hunting, he’s realised exactly how boring life in the ocean  _ really _ is- the same as it could be on land, he thinks idly.

Land.

There have always been stories about the people without tails and weird, smooth skin, but up until now Keith hadn’t really given them more than a half-assed assent and, when he was younger, awe. It had seemed impossible for there to be someone who lives beyond the surface, where it’s hard to breathe and his eyes can’t quite adjust to the light, a shivering atmosphere- but then he’d found a boat, and people who called themselves  _ scientists  _ in peril during one of his trips (the kind that he never told anyone but Dairo about) and his worldview turned upside down. There was also that weird  _ hu _ man-  _ Lance _ , he thinks, the syllables knotting on his tongue- who made his curiosity spike in a way that it hasn’t since he almost died because of his idiocy.

Keith looks up, up, and tries to make out the faded shine of the sun.  It is but a faint brushstroke of light in the distance, red and beautiful, and Keith wonders suddenly what it must be like to live on the surface, where nobody probably knows him and he can live with his ideas, without the fear of being banished or the pressure of being better, being perfect. Where he can be  _ free. _

The last one gives him a pause. He wants to be free- but then again, he already is. He was banished from his home because of his association to humans, and he knows he is not going to be let back in because of a variety of reasons- he is no Kuzon, and he knows that Leader Zarkon believes his deviancy from the norm is dangerous for everybody; and maybe he is right, but he smiles when he realises it isn’t his place to worry about that anymore. He may have been an outcast before, but there is no reason for him to be now- there is nobody to judge him here, in the vast expanses of the ocean and the odd clusters of rocks and corals that crowd closer to shore.

He frowns when he sees, not for the first time, a shadow pass overhead and a gentle breeze ruffle his hair. There’s a reason why banishment is the greatest form of punishment- the tales and legends of string jails and long, jagged teeth and drowning on air are scary enough that nobody wants to actually confirm they’re real, and now, well, Keith  _ knows _ .

It somehow does not make it any better.

He swims to the closest cluster of rocks and finds an opening; he wiggles inside, careful not to cut himself or hurt any of the corals concealing him. He settles on the sand and lies back, closes his eyes against the pressing, fluorescent moss. He stays quiet and listens to the sounds of the sea around him and the added abnormality of the boat hovering overhead- a quiet, vibrating purr, rumbling voices, meaningless words.

He sighs, again, and feels the bubbles pop over his head.

“I knew I’d find you here.”

Keith startles and hits his head on the rock above him in his hurry to hide; he settles into silent, prideful anger when he sees it’s only Dairo at the mouth of his tiny excuse for a cave.

“It’s not like I have anywhere else to go,” Keith says, only letting a little bitterness seep into his words. “What’d you want?”

Dairo chuckles and flicks his tail good-naturedly, moving to the side when Keith makes to exit the small cave. “Just to check on you. How’re you doing?”

Keith frowns. “I was banished from my home,” he starts, “And left to my own devices in the wild, with  _ humans  _ roaming just overhead. But otherwise I’m fine.” Dairo flinches a little.  

“You still believe those silly stories?” he asks quietly. Keith turns towards him, a burning glare vaporising the water between them.

Dairo sighs. “Sorry, sorry,” he says, and claps Keith on the back, intent on relieving the tension between them. “What’re you going to do? Do you plan on- on leaving?”

Keith takes a deep breath and lowers himself onto the edge of one of the flat rocks that line the reef. “Yeah,” he says. “There’s… nothing I can do here. I don’t- I don’t want to… be a hermit forever, or something like that.”

Dairo’s face takes on a solemn expression, one that Keith knows a little too well. He can’t make himself glance over when he sees the wisps of sand that float up when Dairo sits down, and neither can he do more than listen when he says, quietly, “You could stay with me.”

Keith watches the currents go and counts fish instead of answering. Not because he doesn’t  _ want  _ to answer- he actually has to bite back the words from the tips of his tongue- but because he knows Dairo won’t like the answer much.

He, after all, is not a fool. He knows love-struck when he sees it, thank you very much.

“I- Dairo, I can’t… ask you to do that,” he settles on a beat, before it becomes awkward. “You could get arrested too and I can’t… allow you to sacrifice yourself for me.”

Dairo’s eyes soften, and Keith feels them dig into his gills. “I... would, for you, Keith.”

Keith takes in a sharp inhale and doesn’t let it out until he speaks. “I’m not worth it,” he says, almost a whisper, and then- “I already know where I’m going, anyway.”

Dairo looks like he’s going to carry on, but in the end he doesn’t.

Keith is oddly grateful for that.

“You. . .  Where?”

Keith looks up. “Land.”

Dairo blanches. Keith sees it, but he chooses to ignore it because if he even  _ considers  _ doubt for one second he will- well.

“How?” 

He can hear the strain in Dairo’s voice, and it sinks in his throat. He doesn’t want to think about it much. He pauses, and considers his answer, eyes shifting upwards towards the fading, weary light of the setting sun, and waits until it fades away completely to white. If he lied, Dairo wouldn’t..

“I’m going to- I’m going to Haggar,” Keith finally says, like a secret. 

As expected, Dairo sucks in a deep, quick breath. “Keith…” he starts, and then appears to realise something and doesn’t continue.

Keith doesn’t know if that’s good or not.

“What?” he asks, on the defensive. “Look, you can’t control everything i do, okay? And-”

“Alright.”

This time, Keith  _ does  _ look towards Dairo, eyebrows raised, lips downturned. “What?”

“Alright,” Dairo repeats, and he meets Keith’s eyes with the piercing, yellow eyes that Keith lacks. “I know you want. . .  I know you want to continue living your life and it’s. . . hard, down here. If news get out- and they  _ will-  _ nobody will take you in.”

Keith stares. And stares. “I- thank you,” he finally says.

Dairo smiles, sad, like he just lost something he held very dear to his heart.

“Of course, Keith.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FUN FACT when keith says "weird humans" it's like he's saying "weird weird" because in the Galra language weird and human are synonyms :3c
> 
> A million thanks to Dreaming, my wonderful, wonderful beta!! idk what (where?) this thing would be without them :'D <3  
>  
> 
> [Check me out on tumblr!! I changed my url :O) !!](http://kugelblitzes.tumblr.com/)


	4. Chapter Four: A Wave Of Phase

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [_Starman_ , David Bowie;](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tRcPA7Fzebw)   
>  _Then the loud sound did seem to fade, came back like a slow voice on a wave of phase._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... long time no see..... heh. [here's my excuse, this time. if u like snk, riren, and angst, i suggest u go read it.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/7984891)  
> y a todos los mexican@s que siguen ésta historia de mierda, ¡feliz día de la independencia tardío! esperemos que el próximo año la pasemos sin el pendejo que tenemos como presidente <3\. (sorrynotsorry)  
> otherwise, im sorry, enjoy!! <3

_The Exile has requested a spell._

_The Exile?_

_Yes. He has requested to be given legs and smooth skin._

_He wishes to become human._

_Yes. How shall we proceed?_

_Give him what he desires. Give him their language and knowledge of their modes of transport._

_But, Leader-_

_Do not question me, Witch._

_It is not of your character to be so resilient in matters concerning him._

_Are you calling me soft?_

_I am calling you merciful._

_I am not. Give it to him, to be taken away._

_How? With a limit? Do you wish for him to go learn the ways of the Weird and come back to cause uprising?_

_Perhaps, with a deadline. Although we do not want him back._

_What are you saying, Leader?_

_Take his memories of our world. Make him- fully human. And then, when he has accustomed himself to their ways, bring him back._

_He will not remember anything before being turned into a human. He will, most likely, die._

_We shall be counting on that._

 

* * *

 

Lance has a problem.

He refuses to talk about it in depth, of course (but what else is new?), but in case anyone is interested, these are the current happenings of his life, in order: 1. a merperson tried to eat him 2. he tried avoiding his problems 3.everything came to bite him in the ass, and 4. he proceeded to try and teach English to said merperson.

Because, you know, that’s just how he rolls.

So far, his summer vacations are much more eventful than he could have ever imagined (or wished for).  He can only really hope it doesn’t get any worse, and as the days go by and he doesn’t return to the ocean (or even the shore, and it may be time to admit that he may be a teeny tiny bit scared of what or _who_ he may encounter), he can actually start believing the bullshit he’s been feeding himself since two weeks ago, when he was ready for a normal summer and destiny decide to fuck with him- you know, as it does, apparently, and it may be the gods trying to play some kind of shitty prank on him or he just has really, really bad luck. Either way, he doesn’t like it much. Or at all.

He muses on his way downstairs, about silly Gods and the impossibility of a romance between his mental image of Life and Death, down a plethora of steps that make his toes hurt a little- their house is _big,_ and Lance would be surprised were they talking about anyone else but Shiro and his _loaded_ family.

(No, seriously. There’s a private beach. And a _Jacuzzi_ ).

He smells fish and cinnamon as he approaches the ground floor, and it’s something quite odd to smell at eight in the morning, but he’s had worse. He yawns on the last step, and walks into the living room in all his half-assed glory with a witty greeting ready at the tip of his tongue… and then.

Oh boy.

Now that he thinks about it, he really shouldn’t have spoken too soon. If there’s anything that’s been taught to him over the course of his twenty-two years of life, is that early celebration is the worst curse one can lie upon themselves; Never mind that he never _ever_ would speak about his crazy hallucinations of pretty boys with slimy tails with anyone, of course, but he kind of wants to smack himself and the entire _universe_ when he sees his dreams laid out on the couch: wet, confused, and, by the looks of it, very much naked.

“Um?” he says intelligently, his brain wiped clean and a heavy rock of déjà-vu settling in his stomach when _Keith_ turns towards his voice and screams a little.

“ _What_?” he tries again, and there it is once more- Keith keeps staring at him, his eyes not quite as yellow as they were when they first met, his skin and throat smooth and milky.

And he has _legs._

“What the fuck is _he_ doing here?” he asks, throat dry and staring at Keith’s toes as if they were going to grow into twenty tiny little slimey and disgusting tails.

“You know this guy?” Hunk asks him, and when Lance finally snaps (partially) out of his state of utter shock and general _?!??!-_ ness, he notices all his friends are there- Pidge’s on the corner mumbling over their computer, and Shiro’s staring at him and Keith on intervals, and Allura and Coran are bent over Keith with scary-looking medical instruments at hand; everyone turns towards him when Hunk speaks, and the only thought Lance has then and there is _I went crazy_.

“W-what? No! I just meant- he’s naked!”

Lance had a plan. Honest.

“Oh,” Hunk says, and there’s some kind of exchange between all of them but Lance that has him wondering how long they’ve all been here. “Pidge and I found him by the shore a few hours ago. We were testing out this new drone-y thing that’s supposed to glide over water and sand alike in order to-”

“Hunk,” Lance says. “To the point?”

“Right. Sorry. Anyway, we were retrieving our rover and we found it right beside this guy, who was like, completely unconscious? I had to give him mouth-to-mouth, it was gross- no offense, man-” he turns towards Keith, who raises his eyebrows but says nothing- “But you taste like fish. Anyway, he coughed up a lotta water and I think seaweed, but then he fall back asleep so we brought him here and called Allura,” Hunk points behind him, and Allura waves. “And now we’re here.”

Lance nods along. “Thanks, man,” he says, with a small frown. “He okay now?”

“He will be,” Allura answers him, this time, and Coran nods beside her. “He has slight hypothermia and memory loss, but otherwise he’ll live. I still think we should get him to a hospital, though.”

Lance frowns at that and turns towards Shiro, now, who looks guilty and in turn looks at Pidge. “Me too,” he says with a raised eyebrow.

“We can’t,” Pidge interrupts. “We don’t know who he is. No IDs, no internet presence, no birth certificate. It’s like he doesn’t even exist,” they continue, not looking up from the screen for a millisecond.

“So he’s one of those internet-free weirdoes, big deal. We should dump him in the police station and be over it!” Lance says, and then he accidentally meets Keith’s eyes, which look disappointed, betrayed, and slightly confused.

“Don’t talk like I’m not here,” he says, his voice rough and wet, his vowels curved and his _k_ s and _h_ s harsh, like if he wasn’t used to speaking them. “Please.”

They all turn towards him, apologetic.

“You speak?”

Lance feels blood rushing into his face at the completely blank stare he gets in return.

“Dude,” Hunk says, and Pidge shakes their head, a snicker escaping them at the expense of Lance’s idiocy.

“This is Keith!” Shiro says, his voice too high, like if he were trying to break the awkward moment that is the entirety of Lance’s existence. “Keith, this is Lance.”

“I know,” Keith says, voice still monotone, still weird, still _everything._

Lance shakes his head. “It’s too early for this,” he decides, and doesn’t quite look at Keith when he says, “Dude, you’re confused. Just go home. I’m going back to bed.” And without any more preamble but a lazy salute, he turns around and fucks right off, up the stairs, and into the room he shares with Hunk.

_What the fuck._

His thoughts are an orchestra of the same sentence, with variety- _fuckity hell, dammed fucking fuck, what the flying shitty fucks?-_ and he can’t help but have his theory of Keith being no more than a crazy illusion caused by dehydration a little closer to validation.

And yet, there’s still something _fishy_ about all this.

How could have he made up Keith’s face, for one. Of course, minus all the ugly scales and pale eyes he looks so much better, but the Keith from his dreams (???) is still very much the Keith currently not dying on their couch. There’s also the issue of convenient _memory loss,_ and that creepy-ass _I know_ that sounds less like a badly-executed _Star Wars_ reference and more like an incredibly mind-fucking trip.

Oh hey. Maybe he was on drugs.

But no- he may be cool and all, but he’s _sure_ he wasn’t high that night, or the other day. He knows what he saw.

It all makes his head hurt a lot. Or maybe that’s the pungent smell of fish left out for too long in the sun.

It reminds him of his grandmother, somehow, and how the poor woman couldn’t cook to save her life. He remembers that one time she’d wanted to cook some kind of fish and thought that leaving it out to dry on the sun was the best course of action, and how the house had smelt like rotten shit for days on end, afterward.

He shudders at the thought.

He sighs, then, and feels like a complete dickhead, for some reason; he takes a look outside, at the odd, fluffy clouds and periodic water, and suddenly is hit on the dick by a hard wave on nostalgia.

And he didn’t even live by the coast.

He shakes his head. No time for shitty thoughts, he decides, and then goes to put on his swim trunks because if Keith is _here_ (And he’s real, Lance saw his weird-ass hair and hands from the corner of his eye as he rushed past on his way out of the house) then there’s nothing to eat him out there in the water.

Or at least nearby. Obviously there _is_ some monster ready to have him as its next snack, deeper in the mysterious void that is the ocean, but he already _knew_ that. It’s hard having Shiro as a roommate and not hearing about this week’s Creature From Hell (aka the bottom of the sea floor, apparently).

He would, personally, find it an honour if one of those blobfish things were to eat him (never mind that they would not be able to take him whole or at all).

So yeah. He _is_ fine. He’s not going to be eaten alive anytime soon, and he would like to thank God or whoever is out there for that.

Or, at least, he hopes so. He’s not sure if he should, but he does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WAIT WHAT?!  
> hahahahahah, fucking timeskips. they really mess with my chi.  
> also, lance is an asshole. and i make shitty puns. but those are not really news.
> 
> FUN FACT CORNER all Galra/merpeople are hermaphrodites, but they have a 'gender' system based on the colour of their tails and/or skin: 'light', 'dark', and 'blue'. each of these 'genders' are pronounced: _mhmnh_ , _buhih_ , and _ssstru_ , respectively, and the words act as both pronoun and gender. This does not mean their tails are al black/white/blue, though- remember that's just the range of colour they can see.  
> Keith's 'gender' is _buhih_ (dark).
> 
> also if you got the not-so-subtle reference to that one comic? you're cooler than zero k & should definitely hmu on [tumblr](http://kugelblitzes.tumblr.com) so we can fanboy about it together.

**Author's Note:**

> there may be more but??? idk. depends if yall like it i guess  
> Kudos are good for my soul (and ego) <3  
> [Come cry about gay robot pilots and space with me!](http://kugelblitzes.tumblr.com)
> 
> FUN FACT CORNER all Garla/merpeople have shit vision! they can only see in some shades of black, white, and blue. kind of like sharks, but a bit better. they rely a lot on their ears and the movements of the water to compensate, since their sight is pretty blurry.


End file.
